


In Vino Veritas

by SirLancelotTheBrave



Series: Tumblr prompts and oneshots [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, a bit of smut, and Athos recites poetry!, basically just the boys being adorable over drinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:32:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirLancelotTheBrave/pseuds/SirLancelotTheBrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the tumblr prompt: Leave a “Drink Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about characters drinking, alone or with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Vino Veritas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ComeHitherAshes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComeHitherAshes/gifts).



> "YOOOOU, I'm sick and can't see Wales vs England in the rugby next year. May I have a "Drink Me" ficlet to cheer me up, please? Around 1k words, preferably OT3 but Portamis is fine, too. THANKS SWEETLING <3"
> 
> HERE YOU ARE MY DEAR

"Sing me a song," Aramis suggested, the words heavy with the two bottles of wine he alone had already consumed this evening. It was a testament to how much more Athos had polished off that he even paused to consider the idea.

"No-oo," he said, the word exaggeratedly drawn out to keep it from slurring. "I don't so think." He stopped and tried again. "Don't think so."

Porthos grinned at the exchange and took another swig of wine, secure in the knowledge that he was still the least drunk of the lot of them. "I wanna 'ear Athos sing," he sniggered, enjoying the dark look Athos sent his way a little too much. "Seein' as I ain't gotta carry your drunken asses back home anyway." He cast a satisfied look around Aramis's apartment.

"I do not sing," Athos said with as much dignity as a man three bottles in could muster.

"Pleeeaaasseeee _mon cher_ ," Aramis said, eyes wide and pleading in the firelight. "It would make me so happy."

Porthos nearly choked on his wine. If Aramis had looked at _him_ like that, there'd have been no question of him getting whatever he wanted.

"No," Athos said shortly, but his determination was visibly weakening. He took another long swig of wine, presumably to hide the vulnerability.

Unfortunately Aramis was like a bloodhound when it came to locating chinks in a person's armor. "My leg is acting up again," Aramis said with a long suffering sigh, flopping back against the pillows they'd propped up behind him. "If only I had something to distract me…"

Porthos had to fight not to laugh aloud at the blatant attempt at manipulation, but it seemed Athos was slightly too drunk to notice it. His face darkened again before settling into something akin to resignation.

"I will not sing," he said stiffly, the words sounding more sure than they had moments before. "However," he added before Aramis's face could fall, "I will recite something for you."

Aramis's smile would've put the sun to shame. Even Athos seemed speechless for a moment.

"Oh, please," Aramis cried, his excitement contagious. Porthos grinned eagerly and leaned forward as Athos sighed deeply.

"Very well. Would a sonnet satisfy you?" he asked with mock weariness. Aramis nodded quickly and Porthos smirked. He would want a love poem.

Athos took a long swig of wine and began, " _Per fare una leggiadra sua vendetta_ …"

Porthos leaned back against the wall, hand resting on Aramis's uninjured thigh, content to simply listen to the way Athos's rich voice wrapped rhythmically around the unknown words and watch the way Aramis's face flushed in the firelight.

"That was beautiful," Aramis breathed when Athos stopped at last. "Thank you, _mio caro_."

"What language was that?" Porthos asked, the slightly rough edge to his voice making it embarrassingly obvious how much the recitation had affected him.

Athos smiled, looking smug at the proof. "Italian," he replied, glancing at Aramis. "I didn't think you spoke that one."

"I know enough," Aramis murmured, pushing himself a bit further up the bed.

"Oi, sit still," Porthos said when Aramis suddenly winced. "Thought that was the whole point of us comin' here and getting' drunk, to keep you from wanderin' about on that leg."

"I thought it was for the pleasure of my company," Aramis said, his voice laden with mock affront. "You wound me, _querido_."

Porthos grinned at him. "Sorry."

"You don't sound very sorry," Athos pointed out, glancing from him to Aramis. "Maybe he ought to offer you something to prove how sorry he is, _mon cher_."

Porthos shot him a look warning him to shut up. Athos merely raised an eyebrow.

Ah, this was payback for encouraging Aramis earlier.

"Perhaps he should sing," Athos suggested, his eyes glimmering wickedly.

"An excellent idea!" Aramis cried, turning those blasted brown eyes on him. "Please, sing to me."

"I got a better idea," Porthos said hastily, trying to get it out before Aramis could flash him one of those irresistible pleading looks.

"Oh?" Aramis asked, a smirk flashing across his handsome face. "Pray tell."

Porthos shot him a grin and inched his hand higher.

" _Oh_ ," Aramis breathed, smirk deepening into a sensual smile. "I believe I prefer his offer, Athos."

Porthos glanced at Athos and found him staring at them hungrily. "As do I, _mon cher_ ," Athos said, his voice rough.

Porthos took one last swig before setting his wine bottle down on the side table. Athos drew his chair closer to the bed, blue eyes watching them intently as Porthos shifted to straddle Aramis's hips.

Aramis grinned up at him in delight. He leaned down, brushing his lips along the shell of Aramis's ear.

"You're gonna have to hold very still for this…"

* * *

 The poem is a sonnet of Petrarch's. In English, it goes as follows:

_To make a graceful act of revenge,_   
_and punish a thousand wrongs in a single day,_   
_Love secretly took up his bow again,_   
_like a man who waits the time and place to strike._

_My power was constricted in my heart,_   
_making defence there, and in my eyes,_   
_when the mortal blow descended there,_   
_where all other arrows had been blunted._

_So, confused by the first assault,_   
_it had no opportunity or strength_   
_to take up arms when they were needed,_

_or withdraw me shrewdly to the high,_   
_steep hill, out of the torment,_   
_from which it wishes to save me now but cannot._

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought in the comments, or drop me a request ;)
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at http://lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis.tumblr.com/


End file.
